


Silently

by hamish_adler_holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:09:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1234465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamish_adler_holmes/pseuds/hamish_adler_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate ending to The Reichenbach Fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silently

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a short (and weirdly depressing) alternate ending to TRF. Leave comments and let me know what you think (:

Sherlock stood at the top of the building. He had to find a way to live. But the gunman pointing at John would stop that. He dialed John's number.

"John. Go away, go anywhere but here. Just get away."

"What the hell is going on?" John's confused and stressed voice hurt Sherlock's heart. The man he loved may die if he didn't do this.

"I'm a fake." Sherlock choked out, feeling tears on his face. He went on, telling John that he had made things up, had researched him to impress him.

"Nobody could be that clever."

"You could."

Sherlock laughed, but it was cut short as Moriarty took the phone from Sherlock's hand. "Goodbye, John." He cackled as a shot rang out. John seemed to fall in slow motion. Sherlock's vision blurred, and he almost fell from the ledge as his knees went weak. He turned and grabbed Moriarty by the front of his shirt, hanging him over the edge. For the first time, there was real fear in the madman's eyes. "Big mistake." Sherlock said. His voice sounded fuzzy and far away. His hands released Moriarty seemingly by their own accord, and Sherlock turned away as Moriarty plummeted towards the unforgiving ground below.

Sherlock numbly left the hospital, walking across the street towards the crowd that had formed around John. He shoved people aside and knelt down by the dying man he loved. John's eyes were open and he reached a hand out and weakly grabbed Sherlock's. Sherlock held on for dear life, ignoring the blood that soaked the hem of his long coat and the medical staff that had rushed over and were pressing against the bleeding hole jn John's chest.

"I love you," whispered John, his hand going limp in Sherlock's.

The doctors pulled the two men apart and wheeled John away. Sherlock felt as if there were cotton filling his mouth. He followed after the stretcher, his pulse roaring in his ears.

He sat in the waiting room, silent.

He was silent as a doctor came out, muttering something followed by awkward condolences.

He climbed into the sleek black car and silently ignored his brother as he rambled on about funeral arrangements.

Later, Mrs. Hudson left tea on his table. Sherlock retreated and lay in his bed for what felt like years. Plates of biscuits and mugs of tea lay mostly untouched around the flat, piling up as Sherlock lay silently in his bed. He didn't speak a world, nor did he cry.

The day of John's funeral rolled around, and Sherlock rose to silently dress in black. He stood silently and dry-eyed beside the sobbing people gathered around a gaping hole in the ground. He hardly felt the gentle touches on his shoulder as people filed past.

He stayed there, staring at the sleek gravestone. And suddenly he felt like screaming. He wanted to shout and scream at the world, _"_ Why him? _"_ Instead he fell to his knees in the freshly turned dirt, his fingers brushing his fingers against the name carved harshly into the dark granite.

"I love you, too." Sherlock croaked, his voice hoarse from weeks of not being used.

And suddenly he was crying, his face pressed against the cool stone. He cried over the cases he would now solve alone. He cried over the empty flat that now seemed to taunt him and echoed John's soft laugh, wafted John's scent after Sherlock no matter how hard he tried to get away. And then he heard the fainest whisper of John's voice. Sherlock turned, but saw nothing. And still he heard John as if he were there beside him, whispering into his ear.

_"It's okay, Sherlock, I'll stay."_

Sherlock wiped the tears from his eyes and walked back to the echoing flat. He talked to John the whole way, basking in the warm laughter that splashed around him. And as he went to sleep, the soft pressure of a ghostly mouth pressed against his temple. He smiled for the first time in what felt like months as ghostly fingers pushed through his tangled curls and a silent voice whispered "I love you, I won't leave you." over and over into the air around him.


End file.
